


The Black Books

by Constantsnow



Series: Dovah Journals [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Spoilers, Tentacles, There may be a relationship?, minor horror themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constantsnow/pseuds/Constantsnow
Summary: Milos An-Ra is a dovakiin, former apprentice to the Dragon Priest Miraak, and slave to the Deadric Prince Hermaus Mora.  Forced in to the life of an immortal, he's spent ages roaming the world, learning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Milos is one of the 3 main Dovah in this collection. He is also probably one of my 2 favorite dovahkiin that I've created in this little world of mine.

“Come, Milos, I have something new to teach you.”

The purple scaled hatchling looks up from his studies, to where his Master stands in the doorway, dressed in his full robes, and tentacle themed mask cover him from head to toe. Milos placed a feather in his book to mark his place then stands, pushing his chair under his desk and moves to his master’s side. He barely reaches the Nord’s chest, and walks exactly two paces behind the Dragon Priest as he leads the way through the temple halls to his laboratory

Miraak lets the doors swing open slowly, and Milos is instantly over come with a sense of nearly overwhelming unease. The Argonian shivers, and steps closer to his Master’s back as he leads them to one of the many tables in the room.

{“Well, what an interesting creature you are.”} A voice croaks, ancient and disembodied.

“This is what I wanted to show you.” Miraak states as they stand before the table. There is only one object on it’s surface, large and square, covered with a thick piece of black, damp cloth. “Do you feel it?” The Priest asked, and Milos nods nervously, reaching out for whatever it is. Miraak grabbed Milos’ thin wrist before his fingers reach the object. “Careful little one.” The man chuckles.

“What is it?” Milos asked.

{“You feel me creature?”} The voice asked.

Milos nods. “I hear you.” The young Argonian replied and his Master gazed down at him with surprise.

“You hear who?” The Nord asked.

“The Old Voice.” Milos answers, forcing his attention away from the object and up to his Master.

“The Old Voice…” Miraak repeated, then hummed. “Is it coming from this?” He hovered a gloved hand over the object. Milos nods, his attention zeroing on to the object.

{“I come from more than just the book now that you are here, Little One.”}

“Yes, a… book.” Milos reached forward again, and this time Miraak did not stop him from pulling away the damp cloth, whatever covered it, coating his fingers in a black tar like substance. The large book was completely black, with thick ragged pages, and smelt of ozone and decay. The Dragon Priest stepped back as his pet was over come by a strange energy. The young Argonian sank in to the seat before the table, and opened the book.

Black tentacles slithered from the pages, wrapping around the Argonian’s wrists, then quickly, spiraled up to his neck and around the back of his head. Smaller tendrils sprang forth, wrapping around the creature’s horns and spikes. 

Milos cried out in distress and attempted to drop the book.

{“Do not fight my influence.”}

“I-I’m scared, please.” Milos pleaded with the voice only he could hear as more tentacles began to move towards his eyes. “MASTER!”

{“I am your new Master, child.”} Tentacles slid in to the Argonian’s eyes and he screamed.

Miraak watched as his pet was absorbed by the tentacles from the Black Book. Where other’s had died or been driven to madness by this Deadric object, Milos had been accepted by it. The Dragon Priest smiled behind his mask, and moved across the room to watch the process. 

 

*******

The ground was jagged and damp, the air cold and smelt like paper, decay and something the Argonian could not explain as he forced open his pained eyes and pushed himself off his belly.

“Look at you,” A voice croaks above him, and he feels something cold and wet slide against his scales. “A rare creature indeed.”

Its a writhing mass of shadows and eyes, blinking and shifting. Tentacles reach out to lift him to his feet and Milos stiffens as to not flinch away. There’s an overwhelming pressure on his head, and he is pushed on to his back as the limbs push and prod him; examining him, Milos realizes.

“Do you know who I am, Little One?” The eyes asked.

“N-no.”

“I am the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Hermaus Mora.” The tentacles pull at his robes, slither in to his mouth to feel his teeth and tongue before coming back out. One thick tentacle wraps around his arm and lifts Milos from where he’d been laid, in a pile of books he realizes.

“What are you doing to me?” Milos asked, eyes roaming the strange room nervously. It seems like an ancient library, shelves filled to bursting with books, more piled and stacked around the circular room.

Hermaus, ignored his question. “Most go mad when they come to my realm, overwhelmed by the knowledge that flows in to them. But not you, I want to learn why, Little One.” The Daedric Prince stated, his form swirls and a single giant eye appears at the center, the form moved closer. Milos gasped at the static energy that danced over his scales, making his muscles twitch and his limbs go weak. Its only Hermaus Mora’s tentacles that keep him from collapsing once more. “Surely it is not that you are dovah, as many of them have fallen to madness… so very interesting.”

“P-please, I will help you learn, but you are hurting me.” Milos gasped as one tentacle wrapped painfully tight around his throat.

“Hmmm…” Hermaus removes all but the tentacle from his throat, and lessens the pressure it holds Milos with. “Will you betray Miraak, and serve me? Forsaken the mortals who roam your realm until such time where you have earned your place by my side, Little One?”

“Y-yes, my Lord.” Milos replied, looking up to meet the mass of eyes.

Hermaus Mora laughed, and it made the Argonian shiver. “Very well. I shall return you, as WE have much to learn.”

 

******

 

Milos cried out as he felt like he is thrown from Hermaus’ realm back to Miraak’s laboratory. Candles burn now as the world outside the windows has grown dark. Milos fell from his chair, the Black Book slammed closed and innocently laying on the table as Milos scrambled across the floor, eyes frantically looking around the room.

Miraak stood from his own chair, and moved to where Milos has pushed himself in to the corner, hands racing over his body, eyes wild and breath coming out in harsh ragged pants.

“Are you alright, pet?” Miraak bends to be level with the frightened creature.

“I-I… it was… Mora….” Milos sucked in a large breath of air, eyes looking over the Dragon Priest’s shoulder to where tentacle shadows have slithered from his own shadow to slide around the room, absorbing knowledge.

“The Daedric Prince?” Miraak questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Astounding. He spoke to you?”

Milos nodded. “It ordered me to do it’s bidding.”

Miraak smirked. “Then do its’ bidding you must.”


End file.
